One Love, One House
by Lai Jun Chen
Summary: They didn't know it yet but they were one love in one house. They'd been pining for each other for years and the Holmes family is tired of watching them suffer. At a birthday party for Mrs. Holmes the family decides to do something about the hopelessly in love, blind as bats duo. Rating changed to reflect last chapter contents- sorry there was a delay on change. Ch 5 now edited.
1. Chapter 1

**One Love, One House**

 _"_ _One love, two mouths_

 _One love, one house."_ _Sweater Weather, by The Neighborhood._

 **Chapter One: Unrequited and Drowning**

Sherlock had been pining for his flat mate long before the Reichenbach debacle. Then there had been the Mary and Magnussen debacle. It was one bad turn of events after another. Thus, the detective had been obliged to keep his feelings to himself for years. At this point, unrequited love was a constant state of being for him. After so many years of this Sherlock had resigned himself to this life.

Even after Mary was out of the picture, Sherlock was certain that his love wasn't returned. Of course he knew that John wasn't entirely straight, despite his 'I'm not gay!' protests, but that didn't change what he observed of John. After all, John Watson was a man of action and if he did feel anything for him he would have no qualms acting on those feelings. Sherlock knew he was shite with people and emotions, but he was sure about his deductions. Fortunately for Sherlock, he always missed something.

John had fallen in love with his asexual, a-romantic flat mate long before the Reichenbach debacle. John had moved on, but he'd always known that Sherlock Holmes was the love of his life. He'd long ago realized his feelings and that those feelings were never going to be returned by his enigmatic best friend. He was fine with that. He was just happy being with Sherlock on the adventure that was their life.

Even after he and Mary fell apart and he was again living with Sherlock, John was content. Sherlock was married to his work and it was all fine. He was not, and would never be, as observant as the detective, but he could tell that his friend kept himself emotionally detached on purpose. He was certain that if Sherlock had feelings for him that he would be pants at hiding them. Too bad the doctor had long ago put Sherlock in the 'look, but don't touch' box.

~Neither of them realized they were one love in one house.

Yet another case solved and now that they were in the safety of Baker Street they couldn't stop laughing about the conclusion of the nights events. There really hadn't been much to laugh about, for normal people, but they just couldn't stop their merriment.

"Did you see his face as you charged him? It was crazy and hilarious. Crazier than usual! He had a really big knife, you idiot!" John half-heartedly berated between gasped breaths.

"Yes, thank you, I _saw_ the knife. But he wouldn't stop his monologue! It was painful to listen to!" Sherlock defended between his own gasps for air.

The two had barely made it up the stairs and onto the old couch before they'd dissolved into hysterics. John was leaning into the tall detective, head tipped forward, nearly crying in his mirth. The tall brunette was leaning into the shorter man, chin nearly settling into blonde hair. Their chortles eventually died out and they simply sat breathing, adrenaline finally wearing off. John leaned back into the lounge, eyes closed, breath evening out and Sherlock took the moment to stare at him with unabashed fondness. 'This is my perfect partner,' the detective thought to himself.

"Am I interrupting?" Came Mycroft's voice from the door.

"Always," Sherlock sneered.

"Come now, brother mine," Mycroft's smirked in return as he cast a meaningful glance between his younger brother and the oblivious doctor.

"Be nice, Sherlock," John said as he rose from the couch. "Tea, Mycroft?"

"Don't offer him tea!" Sherlock cried in dismay.

"Thank you, John, but no," Mycroft replied, ignoring his brother's outburst. "I'll only be a moment of your time."

"What do you want, Mycroft?" Sherlock snapped.

"I'm here regarding Mummy's upcoming birthday. It is her 70th and you will be there Sherlock. I also wished to extend the invitation to Dr. Watson, of course. Mummy would love to see both of you. I simply wish to make sure you understand the importance of this to mother."

"Yes, thank you, brother, dear, I'd completely missed the significance of the event," the younger Holmes bit out sarcastically.

"Good. And a proper suit this time. There will formal pictures at four," Mycroft added. "And a proper gift, as well. Maybe let _your_ John," Mycroft teased mercilessly, "pick it out this year."

Sherlock threw a pillow at the closing front door and flopped onto the couch in a huff. John came back from the kitchen with two cups of steaming tea and, as usual, deposited one cup on the coffee table before going to his chair.

"Was there some sort of interaction I missed between you two? You seem more put out than usual," John asked gently, knowing how Mycroft irks his little brother.

"It's nothing, John," Sherlock said dismissively, sulking silently.

Sherlock and John both knew it wasn't nothing, but let the conversation drift and change, all the same. John, who was technically never asked if he wanted to go, agreed to go to the birthday party and pick out a gift for Mrs. Holmes. Sherlock couldn't abide shopping, everyone knew. John was silently glad that both Sherlock and his family wanted him to be so much a part of their lives.

The following ten days passed as they usually did. The detective solved a few minor cases. The doctor worked at the clinic and trailed after or patched up Sherlock as was needed. John bought Mrs. Holmes a lovely sweater set and pearl and silver bracelet as well as some new accents for his suit. Neither he nor Sherlock were much for proper suits, tie and all, but it was a special occasion, after all.

When John came downstairs the afternoon of the party clad in his black suit with a new robin's egg blue shirt and a complimentary navy, paisley tie Sherlock was momentarily speechless. Such colors always brought out the deep blues of the blonde's eyes and Sherlock, if had been prone to such whimsy, would have said he could drown in those bright blue eyes. Suffice to say, though he didn't show it, he thought John looked stunning.

Unbeknownst to the detective, the doctor thought the same of him. Sherlock was simply wearing a black suit with white shirt and charcoal tie. The ensemble brought out the silver-grey hues of Sherlock's eyes and he could think of nothing more entrancing than a coming storm on the sea. John wasn't one for flights of fancy, but couldn't help but imagine drowning in those stormy eyes.

"You look good," John said as neutrally as possible.

"As do you," Sherlock replied nonchalantly, "Finally developing a sense of style, I see."

"Shut it, you berk," John said with a laugh as he grabbed Mrs. Holmes gift and the two friends headed to the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: Jealousy and Matchmakers**

John drove their hired car to the country house of Mr. and Mrs. Holmes. They arrived to find most of the guests already there, despite that at half three they were well on time (for a change). John and Sherlock were warmly greeted by Mr. and Mrs. Holmes and quickly welcomed into the house full of relatives. Mrs. Holmes was all a-titter about the two men looking so unusually dapper and that they brought her a gift.

"Oh, you didn't have to, you dears," she said as she placed the gift box on a pile of others in the parlor off the foyer.

The next half hour was mostly spent introducing John to the fifteen or so relatives that he hadn't met before and simultaneously keeping John from hearing all the embarrassing stories of Sherlock's youth that his family suddenly remembered. John was surprised at how tactful and polite Sherlock was being (for a _drastic_ change). He could only imagine that Sherlock was up to something, god help him (and everyone else).

Right at four o'clock Mrs. Holmes called everyone to the back garden and began organizing them all for the family photograph. John tried to sit it out, but was quickly guilted into joining the family. "But you must, John," Mrs. Holmes said. "You're part of the family, now." And how could John say no to that sort of sentiment? The good doctor missed the rather wistful look on Sherlock's face when his mother said that, but Mr. Holmes and Mycroft did not.

After several pictures were taken of the group and yet more taken with just the immediate Holmes family, which John was also dragged into, the party returned indoors for further mingling as they awaited dinner. At this point, Mycroft, being the interfering, concerned brother that he was, decided to enlist help to finally bring Sherlock and John together. Who better to help him than their equally interfering, concerned mother and father? Besides, his parents simply _adored_ John. Thus the machinations of the Holmes family began.

Their plan was three fold. Mrs. Holmes would make Sherlock jealous with the help of their very attractive cousin, Elena, while Mycroft and Mr. Holmes spoke to John and Sherlock separately, nudging them both in the right direction once things, inevitably, became tense. It wasn't the most masterful plan, but it was simple and had the best chance for a positive outcome. Let the manipulation begin!

~As soon as she'd filled Elena in on the plan, Violet found an opportunity to make her a more intimate introduction to Dr. Watson.

"You've met my niece, _Dr_. Elena Holmes, haven't you, John?" Violet asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yes, briefly, when we arrived," John replied, tipping his politely to Elena.

"Elena, dear, is a pediatric surgeon," Violet said with obvious, completely real pride, "I just thought the two of you would have so much in common."

Sherlock tried to interject, but was cut off by Mummy Holmes "Sherly, dear, come and talk to your mother a while. I never know what's going on with these days unless I read John's blog. Come now," Violet insisted as she looped her arm with her youngest son's and began to lead him away.

"Of course, Mummy," Sherlock reluctantly agreed.

Sherlock definitely did not want to leave his John with his beautiful, brilliant, _single_ cousin. 'God damnitt!' he silently cursed. He was lead around the room with his mother, answering all her questions, but covertly casting glances at John when he thought no one was looking. He nearly grimaced every time either laughed. He saw red when Elena had the audacity to touch John's arm or when she leaned into him. Sherlock did not want John to leave him for someone else, anyone else, ever again. The already intolerable situation was made infinitely worse when his prig of a brother joined him and Mummy. Just when he thought it couldn't get worse Violet excused herself to the kitchen to check on dinner.

"They're getting on quite well. They'd make a handsome couple," Mycroft observed, not pulling his punches in the slightest. Sherlock deserved it, being as oblivious as he was when it came ot John.

"It doesn't mean anything. John's just- he's just nice to everyone, is all it is," Sherlock snarled at his brother.

"Who are you trying to reassure, brother mine?" Mycroft asked, almost kindly.

"No one! I'm just stating-"

"He won't wait for you forever, Sherlock," Mycroft interrupted.

"He's not waiting for me, you prat!"

"You are as blind as a bat when it comes to your doctor. You see, but do not observe. He hardly takes his eyes off you," Mycroft said as a final nail in the coffin, so to speak.

"Shut up, Mycroft."

"As I always say, caring is not an advantage; however, I think in this case, caring for John Watson may be the best thing that's ever happened to you. Don't let him slip away now, brother mine."

With that parting advice Mycroft left Sherlock to contemplate this new thought. Sherlock was torn. He wanted to believe what his brother had about not observing, but could hardly bring himself to hope so much. After all, John looked perfectly content with the attentions of his lovely cousin. But when John looked away from Elena and instantly sought out Sherlock, the curly haired brunette made his decision. He would do what he could to put aside his feeling and observe John as he should have all this time, as a detective and not as one with anything invested in the outcome of the case. He'd have it figured out one way or another before they returned to London.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

"There you are, John," Mr. Holmes said. "Hello Elena. May I borrow our Dr. Watson for a bit?"

"Of course! John, it was so nice chatting with you. You know where to find me for more embarrassing Sherlock stories," she said with another laugh.

"You, too, and thanks," John replied as Elena headed away.

"Why don't you have a drink with me, John," Mr. Holmes said as he took John's arm and lead him to the gift filled parlor.

Mr. Holmes poured both of them a few fingers of scotch. There was a minute of awkward silence as they sipped at their drinks. Mr. Holmes finally cleared his throat and began to speak. John immediately wished they'd kept to the uncomfortable silence.

"Now, Dr. Watson- John, I know Elena is an attractive, interesting young woman," he started slowly, "and that my youngest is hardly the best at social situations..." he paused, "but you must know that Sherlock is a very jealous person-"

"But, sir-"

"Andrew, please. We're practically family, after all," Mr. Holmes said genially.

"Of course, sir- Andrew-"

"Yes, no about my son. I kinder stand if you like your privacy, but surely-"

"We're not a coupe!" John said sternly.

"You're not?" Mr. Holmes pretended surprise at the statement. "But Sherlock's attitude towards you and your obvious closeness, I was so sure."

"His attitude towards me?" John asked with a bit of his own surprise and a hint of hope.

"Well, don't give up on Sherlock, yes? He's probably the most stubborn of the whole family. I'm sure when the time is right Sherlock will- but what am I saying? Surely you've noticed after all these years together."

"Noticed what-"

"Well, I'll leave the two of you to it," Andrew continued as if John hadn't spoken. "I expect to be the first to know about your happy announcement, whenever that may be, of course."

With a last swallow of his scotch, Mr. Holmes set down his tumbler and left a bewildered John in the parlor. John was both astonished and embarrassed. He hadn't thought he'd been so obvious in his regard for Sherlock that even Mr. Holmes would notice. John started to panic a bit as he set down his unfinished scotch. If Andrew knew then so must Violet and Mycroft and- and Sherlock. Shite.

And yet, Sherlock, who was never afraid to go after what he wanted, hadn't so much as said anything to John. Despite Mr. Holmes beliefs about the brunette's feelings, the blonde doctor was certain he must be wrong. Unless, Sherlock, for once, wasn't aware of the situation? Christ, now he was really confused he only had a moment more to consider all this when Mrs. Holmes found him.

"There you are, dear. It's time for supper," Violet Holmes said as she gestured for John to follow her.

"Of course," John replied and took the older woman's outstretched arm in his own.

"I have you seated with us, dear. I know how overwhelming the family can be, at times."

"Ah thank you, you didn't have to do that. You have a lovely family," John said politely and sincerely.

Once outside John could only admire the set up for dinner. Tables and chairs had been set up and fairy lights were lit all around the back garden. With the sun having just set it was all very romantic and picturesque. It looked more like the reception for a wedding than a birthday party. The romance of it all, for reasons he didn't feel like contemplating, made him nervous.

Across the yard, Sherlock observed John's reaction to the garden and was somewhat dismayed. He didn't know what his father could have said to his doctor to make the blonde man look uncomfortable, even slightly so. He caught John's gaze and gaze him one of his rare, sincere smiles, hoping that would alleviate whatever nervous feelings his friend had. It seemed to work as John's shoulders relaxed and he returned the smile with a small one of his own.

Sherlock was quite disappointed when John was sat on the far side of the table, between Mycroft and Elena instead of next to himself. He also dreaded the sort of conversation those two were likely to engage his John in. 'At least,' Sherlock thought to himself, 'I can objectively observe John from here.' Everyone was seated and Mr. Holmes made a sweet speech about his beloved wife, and their happy life, and so on. Sherlock politely listened and rose his glass in toast with everyone else, but was immensely pleased when it was over and dinner was served. Not that he intended to eat much of any-

"Don't pick at your food, Sherlock. Eat," John told him before he could even finish his thought.

"I'm not all that-"

" _Eat_ ," John reiterated sternly.

Sherlock took a deliberate bite and chewed viciously as he glared at John. Damn it. The things he did for his love. John smiled, pleased to see his orders followed and turned to his own meal. They both missed the secretive, amused smiles on the faces of the family. Mycroft finally decided it was time to prod more at the not-quite couple.

"So, John, are you seeing anyone these days?"

"Uh, no," John said shyly as he glanced at Sherlock. "No one at the moment," he finished as he looked at his flat mate a second time before looking to his plate.

"Oh? No one special?" Elena asked teasingly.

"Um, well, that is-"

"John is far too busy for such trivialities," Sherlock interrupted, noticing John's sudden discomfort.

"Well, living with you must be quite a chore," Mycroft said. "After all you-"

"It's not. Really, I enjoy living with Sherlock," John interrupted, now coming to Sherlock's rescue.

Mycroft instantly closed his mouth on whatever he'd been about to say. Sherlock looked at John in clear adoration and John offered a smile in return. He was surprised to see such emotion on his friend's face, but chalked it up to gratitude. So few ever defended the crazy detective, John knew.

"Well, Sherlock, what about you? You never talk about anyone but John these days. Are you hiding anyone in the wings?" Mrs. Holmes asked, pretending guilelessness.

"You know that really isn't my area," Sherlock replied tersely.

Sherlock carefully watched John's reaction to his statement and was pleased to see a look of disappointment flit across the blonde's face. Sherlock hid a smile by looking to his plate. Hopefully the rest of his observations of John were just as much to his liking.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Dinner continued with pleasant conversation. Mrs. Holmes asked everyone about their work and lives. Between courses, Violet flitted from table to table conversing with everyone. For all three courses, John glowered Sherlock into eating and Sherlock did his utmost to eat sarcastically. Elena and Mycroft were amused by the antics of the pair and Mr. Holmes, who had served his purpose in the 'Plan' went back to being oblivious.

"So, John, have you ever thought of starting your own practice?" Elena asked.

"Well between Sherlock, and well, Sherlock," John said, earning a laugh from the table, "I really wouldn't have the time for my own practice."

"Surely you want to settle down sometime, though," Mycroft asked, knowing the answer ad giving Sherlock a pointed look.

"Tried that once already. Didn't go so well," John said before taking a large bite of his cake so he didn't have to say anymore on the subject.

"John is best suited to the life style we have," Sherlock said, coming to his doctor's aid.

"Perhaps, but you could certainly find someone more suitable to your work. A pathologist or a forensic anthropologist, perhaps?" Mycroft goaded, knowing the kind of reaction his statement would get him.

"Don't be daft, Mycroft. John is invaluable to the work," Sherlock defended automatically.

Sherlock quickly realized that arguing about John in front of John might be a bit not good and looked to John to see his reaction to the conversation. John was looking at Sherlock in unabashed adoration, a piece of cake on his fork paused half way to his mouth. Sherlock blushed crimson under John's stare and filed away the observation. Apparently, all Sherlock had to do to get John to show sincere emotion was to be honest and open. Damn. Sherlock was not good at doing either of those things. John finally realized he was staring and blushed vividly before finishing the cake's trek to his mouth and becoming very interested in his mostly empty plate.

"You two are just too adorable. I can see why you make such a great couple!" Elena gushed in adoration.

"We're not a couple," John said quickly, looking at his plate in embarrassment.

Sherlock blanched almost imperceptibly and quickly rose from his chair and stormed into the house. John watched him go, confused and a bit sad to see the detective, seemingly, so offended by the accusation. It wasn't as though this was the first time people had assumed they were a couple. It never seemed to bother the detective before. John excused himself and went further back into the lit back garden.  
"Did I say too much?" Elena asked.  
"I think you may have," Mycroft said. "But I think we can still salvage situation. I will talk to Sherlock while you speak to John."  
The two excused themselves form Mr. Holmes and went after their objectives. John was easy to find, still visible in the low light at the back wall of the garden and Mycroft could easily guess where he'd find his little brother.

"John, I apologize if what I said was a little... out of line, but the way you both talk I just assumed... Well, you know what they say about assumptions," Elena said as she handed John a glass of wine.  
"It's all fine, really. I'm just not sure why it upset Sherlock so much. For god's sake, most of our acquaintance and half the Yard thinks we're shagging already and it's never bothered him before," John told Elena, taking a sip of his drink.  
"Oh John, I think Sherlock is upset because you aren't shagging, as you put it. Can't you tell how he feels about you?" Elena asked soothingly.  
"I don't know. It's hard to tell with him, you know. It's always about the work and everything else is just transport or not his area, according to him. I just don't know what to make of it anymore," John said morosely.  
"Oh John, I have to tell you, I've never seen Sherly like this, and we grew up together," Elena continued. "I think if you told him how you felt, he'd surprise you."  
"But what if he doesn't? What if this ruins it? I'm happy with what we have now, I don't want to lose it," John confessed.  
It was unusual for John to speak so openly about his feelings, but Elena was very easy to talk to. She was also close enough to the situation that John didn't have to explain his feelings and everything else from the beginning. John felt better having said all this to someone else for once, instead of keeping it bottled up. Besides, it's not like the situation could get much worse. Unless Elena was wrong and Sherlock didn't feel the same as John did.  
"I know what you're thinking, John Watson, and I'm not wrong. Trust me, I've known Sherly for thirty years," she said. Trust the family and take a chance on him. You may be fine with what you have now, but don't you think the risk would be worth the chance at something so much better?"  
"You're right, of course you're right," and John, ever the man of action, went in search of Sherlock.  
"Finally," Elena said to herself and headed back to the dinner party.

~~~~~~  
As he knew he would, Mycroft found Sherlock on the front walkway, furiously inhaling a cigarette that he'd probably lifted from Mycroft's coat pocket at some point that night.  
"I knew I'd find you out here, Sherlock," Mycroft said as he took the pack of cigarettes from his brother and lit one of his own. "Care to tell me what that was all about? Your doctor was quite hurt when you left."  
"It's none of your business!" Sherlock protested.  
"It's not as though John's statement was inaccurate. And it's obvious-"  
Shut up, Mycroft! John obviously feels something for me, but it, also obviously, isn't what I feel for him. And don't lecture me on the disadvantage of emotions, right now, I'm in no mood for it," Sherlock said angrily.  
"Again, you observe, but you do not see. John was not protesting a desire to be in a relationship with you. And as you said, it's obvious he has feelings for you. Perhaps he's just uncertain about your feelings. After all, we never were ones to where our hearts on our sleeves," Mycroft said not entirely unkindly.  
"But-"  
"No buts. I think it's high time you simply spoke to him, honestly for once Sherlock. After tonight, if you don't, things will only become awkward and tear a rent in your friendship."  
"You know I'm pants at emotions. What if I got it wrong? What if he really does want to settle down and-"  
"I know you're no good with emotions, but surely your ears haven't failed you, too. You heard as well as I did what he thinks of 'settling' down. I'd wager that that is a large part of the reason that things didn't pan out with Mary, shooting you notwithstanding."  
"So I should..."  
"Go talk to John. For heaven's sake, this wishy-washy uncertainty doesn't suit you, brother mine," Mycroft said sternly.  
"There you are, Sherlock," John's voice suddenly came for the front door of the house.  
"I'll leave you two to it," Mycroft said as he stubbed out his cigarette and returned to the house.  
"John, I apologize-"  
"No, Sherlock, let me say something first," John started uneasily. "Sherlock-"  
"Yes, John?"  
"Would you stop interrupting? This is difficult to say," john sighed and started over. "Sherlock, maybe you've already figured it out already, and I know that emotions and relationships aren't your area, so I hope that we can still be friends after, but I wanted to say-"  
"John, your rambling," Sherlock said with a fond smile, moving to stand within an arm's reach of his blogger.  
"I was just getting there, you berk," John groused, "What I'm trying to say is that I love you, but I understand if you don't feel-"  
"I love you, too' John" Sherlock interrupted yet again.  
"-the same way, so I hope we can- what did you just say?" John suddenly cut his monologue off with a question.  
"I said 'I love you, too, John.' Come now, you know how I hate to repeat-"  
John silenced Sherlock with a bruising kiss. Sherlock immediately wrapped his arms around the shorter man's neck and pulled him flush against his body. The brunette had waited too long for the blonde in his arms to want anything less than everything he could get now, now, now! For a man who always said it wasn't his area, Sherlock was one hell of a kisser. Always one to give as good as he got, john lightly bit Sherlock's lower lip, eliciting a tiny moan from the taller man. They explored each other's mouths for a minute more before pausing for air. They rested their foreheads together and simply breathed together for several long moments.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

"I want to take you to bed. Explore every centimeter of you with scientific meticulosity," Sherlock said breathily after a few minutes silence.  
"As amazing as that sounds, somehow I don't think your family would appreciate it," John said with a huff of laughter.  
"They were the ones meddling to get us together," the detective tried to protest.  
"Yes, well, our first time is not going to be at your parent's house, Sherlock. Especially not with your family present for it. No matter how much I want you naked and writhing beneath me," John growled out quite seriously.  
"Very well. I didn't know John 'Three Continents' Watson was such a prude," Sherlock conceded.  
"Oh, Sherlock, you'll see exactly how far from a prude I am as soon as I get you home and into bed," John promised. "Now, come back with me to the party."  
The two returned to the back garden, hand in hand, which went unnoticed by no one. Elena cooed at how cute they were when Sherlock purposely sat John down next to him, displacing Mycroft. Mycroft sat in John's previous seat and grumpily asked them to tone down the affection when Sherlock brought John's hand to his mouth and kissed his knuckles. He loved his surgeon's hands.  
"You're just jealous because you haven't worked up the courage to ask out George," Sherlock teased.  
"The Detective Inspector's name is Gregory, Sherlock," Mycroft corrected. "And I will ask him out when the time is right."  
"Leave your older brother alone," Violet scolded. "After all, it took you and John long enough, and only with our help, to get together."  
"A plan that almost went sideways," Sherlock grumbled to himself.  
"Be charitable, Sherlock, they were doing their best to help. And it all worked out in the end. Unless you have something to complain about, now?"  
"No, John, except that we aren't at home in bed," Sherlock said, "and naked."  
"Sherlock!" John cried in mortification.  
"William Sherlock Scott Holmes. You know better than to talk like that at the dinner table," Mrs. Holmes reprimanded.  
"Not good?" The detective asked with false innocence.  
"A bit not good, Sherlock, yes," the doctor said on a tired sigh.  
"Now that the two of you are sorted and the cake seems to be gone, I believe it's time for the conclusion of the party," Mr. Holmes said "Why don't you boys get your instruments ready?"  
The family returned to the house as the hired staff began clean up. Sherlock and Mycroft played a rendition of 'Happy Birthday' on the violin and the cello that was very well liked. They played a few more songs as everyone finished up their drinks or coffee. Finally the guests began to depart leaving only John, Sherlock, and Mycroft.  
"It was so good having my favorite boys here for my birthday, such a treat," Mrs. Holmes said as she kissed each of their cheeks.  
"We wouldn't have missed it, but now I really must be getting back to London," Mycroft said, turning to his discreet black government car where his assistant was waiting for him already.  
"So should we," John said, "it's a bit of a drive."  
"And we have business to attend to," Sherlock whispered into John's ear.  
John blushed tomato red at the implication, but still managed to bid Mr. and Mrs. Holmes a polite good evening. The two left in their hired car to begin the hour or so trek back to London proper. John and Sherlock were silent most of the way, but Sherlock wouldn't let go of John's hand.  
They returned to the flat about an hour and a half later, both jittery with anticipation. John parked the car outside Baker Street and the two, seemingly, calmly went into the building and up the stairs. However, the moment John shut the door to the flat Sherlock had him shoved against said door, pinned at the shoulders, and was kissing him with bruising force. It was even harsher then the kiss John had initiated earlier that evening. John immediately dropped his keys to the floor and wrapped his hands around the detective's very slim waist. Within moments Sherlock had his tongue in John's mouth and was shoving the doctor's suit jacket down his arms, only managing to get it as far as John's bent elbows.  
"Cooperate John, I'm trying to get you naked," Sherlock growled into John's mouth.  
"Didn't you know, patience is a virtue?"  
"Since when have I been virtuous, my dear Watson?"  
"How about 'good things come to those who wait'?" John asked on a laugh as he moved to kiss at the taller man's neck.  
"Stop teasing, John. I've been waiting years for this. You're all the good I need," Sherlock said seriously before he went back to snogging the air out of his beloved doctor.  
John finally moved his arms and allowed Sherlock to push his jacket all the way off, letting it fall to the floor. The detective had the tie and half the shirt buttons undone on John before he could really think about it. With a bit of cooperation on Sherlock's part, the Belfast and suit jacket joined John's clothes on the floor. John pulled away from Sherlock long enough to back away from the door and begin pulling him to the downstairs bedroom. John hoped that from tonight on he would be able to call it 'their' bedroom.  
"I thought you're body was just transport? That this isn't your area?" John teased.  
"For god's sake, John, not now," Sherlock groaned. "I take it all back, alright? Right now we need to have sex. Christ, I need you to fuck me. Wanted you for years, John. Need you-"  
"Yes, alright. Bloody hell, I need you, want you, too."  
"Then hurry and get undressed. Want to explore every bit of your skin. Want to suck your cock. Can I John. Please? For the love of everything indecent, get your trousers off!" Sherlock cried, nearly ripping John's zip open in his hurry.  
"Slow down, Sherlock," John said with a laugh.  
John toed off his shoes while opening his trousers the rest of the way and pushing them to the floor. He pushed Sherlock away from where he was sucking a bruise into his tanned neck and then pulled off his socks. Finally in just his pants, the doctor turned his attention to the still mostly dressed detective. He pulled Sherlock forward by his tie and then pushed him into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. He unknotted the tie and slowly unbuttoned the white dress shirt. The whole while Sherlock stared at John in pained adoration and anticipation.  
"John, I have to tell you something before we continue," uncharacteristically shy.  
"Yes?"  
"I've never done this part before. Not with another man, anyway," he admitted.  
"In that case maybe we should-"  
"No! I want to. I want this, very badly, John. I don't want to stop," Sherlock protested.  
"Alright. Alright, but let's take it slow," John conceded.  
"But John-"  
"No, Sherlock, slow. We have time. Now get your trousers and pants off and get on the bed. I plan to have you writhing beneath me before anything else," John promised gruffly.  
"God, yes, anything you want, John. My John."  
Sherlock finished stripping and crawled to the middle of the bed. He lay down, face up, and head on the pillows. John pulled down his own pants and Sherlock took a moment to stare at his soon to be lover. John was very well endowed, as he had always assumed from the moniker 'Three Continents Watson,' but knowing and seeing were two very different things. Dear Lord, he couldn't wait to have John's cock inside him. And if John didn't stop staring at him and hurry the fuck up and do something he was going to go crazy! Just as he thought this, John climbed onto the bed and straddled Sherlock's thighs.

He ran his hands up and down Sherlock's sides for a moment before bending to kiss him again. This kiss was sweeter than the previous ones, less hurried. Sherlock moaned at both the feeling of the kiss and of his cock trapped between his and John's stomachs. Sherlock blindly fumbled for his bedside drawer where he kept lube and shoved it into John's chest when he found it.  
"More, John," Sherlock gasped.  
"You said you haven't done this before-"  
"I haven't done it with another man. I, well I enjoy, when I want to get get out of my head, you understand, I have toys, that is..." Sherlock stumbled, afraid John might find the idea repulsive.  
"Christ that is hot, Sherlock. One of these days I want to watch you work yourself over with a fat dildo. Watch you come without me even touching you, but tonight you're coming with my cock in you," josh said possessively. "I've fantasized about your ass for ages. You and your damn tight trousers. You've no idea what you do to me."  
"I think I have some idea," the brunette replied as he gave John's dick a firm squeeze and was pleased to hear the answering grown.  
John shuffled and pushed Sherlock's legs around his thighs and bent them at the knees. He gathered both of the brunette's wrists in one hand and pinned them above his head. Once he had Sherlock situated as he liked he began exploring the pale body beneath him. The blonde licked and bit both nipples, swirled his tongue into the belly button of the almost concave stomach before taking the head of Sherlock's penis into his mouth. Sherlock arched off the bed, inhaling a sharp cry of pleasure and surprise. Using both hands to hold the detective's hips to the bed, the doctor started sucking at the cock in his mouth in earnest.  
"Ja- Jawn, please, Jesus fuck, I'm going to come," he cried until John pulled off him with a wet pop.  
"I like that you're on a hair trigger. I am going to take you apart so many times tonight you'll blackout. I'm going to fuck you till you can't walk."  
"Is that a promise, John?" Sherlock asked cheekily.  
John just growled and kissed him, picking up the lube at the same time. He poured lube onto his fingers and rubbed them together to warm them. He quickly messaged Sherlock's entrance with two fingers then dipped both fingers into him. Sherlock gasped and cried out and pushed back onto his surgeon's fingers. Taking the hint, John moved his fingers in and out of Sherlock at a steady pace, scissoring them occasionally.  
"Jawwwnn," Sherlock drawled in a raspy voice. "That's enough, John, I'm ready for you."  
"One more, love," John countered, knowing he wasn't small and that with just two fingers Sherlock would be in pain for the stretch.  
"You are horrible! I hate you John Watson. Hurry up, damn you!"  
"Patience. One more," John said as he added a third finger.  
Sherlock groaned like he was dying and spread his legs wider, grinding back onto John's hand. After another few minutes of torturously slow preparation John deemed Sherlock ready and withdrew his fingers. He asked about a condom and the pale, already debauched looking brunette shook his head vehemently.  
"I'm clean. I trust you and I want to feel you acutely. Now, John?"  
"Yes," was all John said before slicking himself with lube and slowly pushing into his partner.  
John gave Sherlock time to adjust to his above average girth and kept from moving until the detective rocked back into him, pushing him even deeper into his tight body. John started a slow but steady pace until he found Sherlock's prostate, sending the detective into little chanted cries of ecstasy. Sherlock tried to push John into a faster pace and when he wasn't obeyed he flipped their positions on the bed so that he was straddling his doctor. Sherlock slammed himself onto John over and over, head thrown back in pleasure.  
"You should always give me what I want, John. You should know I always get what I want," Sherlock said as he bent forward to kiss John again.  
"Yeah, yeah, whatever you want Sherlock," John agreed breathily as he kissed back.  
Sherlock continued to ride John another minute or so before he felt himself painfully close to orgasm. He bent himself over John completely, wrapping his arms around the doctor's shoulders and crying out. He bit into the side of John's neck as he came, leaving a sticky mess on both their stomachs. John flipped them back to their original position and after a few more harsh strokes came inside his lover. They both stayed motionless a few moments, just catching their breath as they recovered from the intense orgasm. John finally got up and grabbed a shirt from the floor to clean up the mess on their chests and stomachs before collapsing into bed next to the taller man.  
"That was brilliant," John said as he wrapped an arm around his Sherlock.  
"You're not done, are you, Dr. Watson? I specifically recall a promise that I wouldn't be able to walk," the detective teased, smiling big in post-orgasmic bliss.  
"Oh, I am far from done with you for the night, but I'm not in my twenties anymore. Give me some time to recover, will you?"  
"If I must," Sherlock sighed.  
Sherlock turned onto his side so he was facing away from John and let the older man spoon against his back. Not that he would know, never having had a lover before, but Sherlock doubted he would have let anyone else cuddle him like this. Only his John, his perfect partner. He heard John mumble 'I love you' as he drifted into a light sleep. He would wake John again soon and hold him to the promise of sex till he blacked out. After all, now that they were finally, finally together they had time. They had all the time in the world.


End file.
